


Fescinnine

by poisonrationality



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonrationality/pseuds/poisonrationality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there is literally nothing deep about this fic at all. i just wanted to write gohnsol</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fescinnine

 

 

 

Hansol bites at the skin on his lip, glancing at the clock. The air is heavy in the classroom as each tick counts down to the end of the school day. People are packing up their things hurriedly, whispering to their friends, but all Hansol can do is stare at the teacher tapping his fingers on his desk. Each soft thud of his fingertips beats along with Hansol's heart. He dares not to look into the teacher's eyes, scared of breaking the code, instead looking down at his chemistry homework. His thighs are trembling, sweat building at his hairline.

 

There's lead in his stomach by the time the bell rings, sending everyone but him into a flurry to get out of the room as fast as possible. Hansol takes his time though, sliding papers into folders slowly and quiet as a mouse.

 

The last of his classmates trickle out of the door, leaving just him and the teacher. He gulps, shifting his binder under his arm and making his way to the door. He's almost across the altar when he hears the soft but pointed clearing of a throat from behind him. Little hairs on his neck stand on end and he turns around, fingers trembling around his books. The older man is staring straight at him, predatory eyes tracking his every move.

 

He's silent for a moment, before he manages to squeak out a quiet “yes?”.

 

The other clears his throat again, a slight smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “I'd like to discuss your upcoming chemistry test.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Hansol meanders over to the teacher's desk, still gnawing at his lips.

 

The desk is uncharacteristically clean, papers aligned neatly on either side, leaving the middle surface of the desk empty. In that space, the older man leans on his outstretched hands, staring right through Hansol.

 

“What did you want to know?” He asks, avoiding the others' gaze. There's something about the way the teacher is staring at him, like he could eat Hansol whole. His gaze is cold and calculating but the tilt of his lips draws the younger in, causing a rosy pink to spread along the high points of his cheeks. The man doesn't respond, though, standing slowly out of his seat and making his way around the desk. The smell of his cologne wafts towards Hansol, pine and musk invading his senses.

 

The teacher sidles up close to the younger, only a foot or two between them. He picks up a paper off of one of the piles, holding it in his hand for a moment before moving forward slightly and pressing it into Hansol's chest.

 

Hansol sucks in a sharp breath, heart picking up even faster. With his hand right on his breastbone, there's no way the older doesn't feel every skip and thump. He licks slightly at the sweat starting to collect on his upper lip and the others' eyes track the motion of his tongue.

 

“Mr. Kim, I don't underst-”

 

“It's Dongsung.” Fingers twitch on Hansol's chest, the paper dropping between them.

 

Hansol's lips part on an uneven breath. He eventually gathers the courage to look the older man in the eyes, even though his face is getting redder and redder by the minute.

 

“Dongsung?” Hansol asks. “Are you sure that's allowed?”

 

Dongsung laughs, shaking his head slightly and stepping even closer to Hansol, boxing him in. It forces Hansol back against the desk, the edge cutting into his tailbone. Their chests are almost touching, now, Hansol's frantic breathing a contrast to the older's still chest.

 

“Of course it is, I said it is.” Dongsung laughs. “Do you have a problem with it?”

 

“No! Not at all,” Hansol nods quickly, not daring to look up and into the others' eyes again. “It's just...”

 

The shake in Hansol's voice seems to goad the older on, his arms coming to rest on the desk either side of the younger.

 

“You know,...” Dongsung starts, reaching a hand up and trailing the collar of Hansol's dress shirt with his fingertips. “I've seen the way you stare at me during class. Don't think I don't see how you fidget whenever I meet your eyes. The way you bite your bottom lip,” As if on cue, Hansol chews his lip again. “Like that. You're not very subtle, Hansol.”

 

Like lightning, the way Dongsung said his name was like a punch in the gut and he lurches forward, hands automatically coming up to fist in the others' shirt. Blood pulses in his veins, every artery pumping double-time.

 

He opens his mouth to speak but Dongsung's fingers slip into his collar, pulling slightly against his neck. The slight restriction seems to send electricity buzzing through every limb on his body. He gasps, shivering violently, fists curling even tighter in the older's shirt. He can feel blood pooling south, retreating from his head and making him dizzy and it must show on his face because Dongsung laughs, all sharp canines and spit-slick lips.

 

“Hmm. Interesting reaction.” Dongsung murmurs, thumbing the top button. “Do you mind?”

 

It takes a while for the fog to clear from Hansol's head, but when it does he shakes his head slowly, gasping at the feeling of the older's fingertips on his throat.

 

The older undoes the top buttons at a slow pace, taking his time to stroke the skin he's revealing. He rolls the collar down as he goes, being careful to not wrinkle the shirt. This continues until the hollow where his collarbones meet is exposed, gooseflesh rising on Hansol's skin.

 

“I have a present for you.” He says, patting down the younger's collar before striding to the backside of the desk and rustling through one of its drawers. He humphs, victorious after he pulls a small pink box out of the desk. “I've been saving it, just for times like this.”

 

He sidles up to Hansol again, one knee between the others' legs, and opens the box with eager fingers. Inside the box, an intricate choker lies on a patch of red velvet. It's black leather with a circular chrome cutout in the middle and satin lines the inside. There's a leash resting just underneath the collar, attached to the circular opening. Just looking at it makes Hansol's windpipe tighten.

 

“You like it, don't you?” The older questions, running a finger along it's edges. “Would you like to wear it?”

 

It takes every ounce of Hansol's willpower to not whimper, instead he bites his lips again, nodding a little too quickly and making himself even more dizzy. He reaches out to take the collar out of the box but Dongsung lightly smacks his hands away.

 

“No, no. I'll put it on for you.” The older's tone is stern. The younger shivers at Dongsung's assertiveness.

 

Dongsung removes it from the box gingerly and fastens it around Hansol's neck. It's tight enough to where Hansol can feel it when he moves his head, but not too tight as to where he can't breathe. He supposes that's what the leash is for.

 

Without warning, Dongsung's hand reappears on his throat, pushing him down to lay on the desk. His back arches, chest heaving with a surprised breath. His legs lay limp off the side of the desk as the older leans over him, pressing him into the hard surface. His arms are bent awkwardly, squished against his front.

 

“Now, I want you to follow me.” Pulling at the leash between them, Dongsung leads Hansol up by the throat. “You are going to kneel in front of me while I sort my papers and strip yourself of all clothing, except your shirt.” He seats himself, nudging at Hansol's legs with his feet so they fold beneath him. “Do you understand?”

 

The younger squeaks, the closest sound he can make to actually talking.

 

His knees shake but he kneels slowly and starts to remove the blazer from his shoulders. He watches meekly, trying to stay quiet as Dongsung rearrangs and marks papers above him. Discarding his blazer on the floor, he fixes his hands on his belt and inhales sharply. The buckle clinks in the dead silence of the room but the older man shows no signs of noticing. However, Hansol spots the strain at the front of the older's slacks and feels a small swell of satisfaction.

 

He removes his pants awkwardly, stretching in strange ways to stay kneeling the entire time. The socks are removed with his pants, and he's left with just his dress shirt and his boxers.

 

Blushing violently, his hands still on the waistband of his underwear for a second too long.

 

Above him, Hansol sees Dongsung go still. He gulps, when Dongsung turns his head and catches his gaze. The intensity of his stare catches Hansol off guard, spurs him into action. With haste, Hansol hooks his thumbs into his waistband and pushes down.

 

He feels his cock spring free from his boxers, flushed red at the tip and already leaking. He stares Dongsung right in the eyes, too embarrassed to look away, and quickly tears the boxers off and throws them behind him. He feels exposed as Dongsung's eyes roam over his legs, his groin. It only makes him harder. Every pulse of blood poleaxes him, a mixture of lust and embarrassment fogging up his vision.

 

“God, just-” Dongsung's voice comes out shaky, breathless, surprising them both. He clears his throat, composing himself. “Come here.”

 

Hansol crawls weakly, knees sore, to sit at the older's feet. His head hangs, bangs obscuring his eyes and red-hot face, until the older's finger appears under his chin, lifting his head up. The younger's lips tremble, eyes watery from the overwhelming concoction of emotions brewing in his body.

 

“What a good boy.” Dongsung says lowly, hand sliding from the younger's chin to his cheek, stroking the cheekbone with his thumb. He pushes Hansol's sandy blonde hair out of his eyes. “Get up here.”

 

Hansol quickly complies, straddling Dongsung's thighs and holding onto the armrests of the chair. The scratchy fabric of Dongsung's slacks rub against his thighs and when he squirms, the older man hisses and his hand shoots out to grip at Hansol's hip, stilling him. The other hand comes to grip at the leash, yanking Hansol forward and into brutal kiss.

 

The older breaks the kiss briefly to reach behind Hansol and grab lube and a condom from one of the desk drawers. He whispsers, “I want you to prepare yourself”.

 

Every nerve cell in Hansol's body lights aflame at the demand, burning from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He takes the lube with shaky fingers. Dongsung rips the condom open with his teeth, hands fumbling at his belt. Heavy breathing breaks the silence of the room as Hansol pops open the cap, pouring a generous amount on his fingers. The lube is cold, sparking on his skin as he slides his hands down his thighs. He can feel the older's eyes on his hand traveling south, can hear the slight quickening of his breathing.

 

Risking a glance at Dongsung's face, he locks eyes with the other, unable to look away. He stares, small breaths puffing through his lips as he slowly starts to finger himself. His fingers burn when he scissors them, but he's careful to not let the pain show on his face. A clock is ticking somewhere but Hansol can't hear above the sound of his own heart racing. The leash trails cold across Hansol's navel, raising goosebumps.

 

His chest is heaving, flushing a bright red down to his navel and his arm is cramping by the time that Dongsung deems his preparation acceptable. The older captures Hansol's wrist, joining it to the other and sliding them behind his neck. This position makes Hansol's back arch prettily, pushing

their chests together. Their faces are close enough to where they share every breath that flows between them.

 

“I think,” Dongsung pauses at the pleading look in the younger's eyes. “I think you know what you have to do now, baby.” He grabs the leash, wrapping it loosely around his fist.

 

Hansol nods, shy, and starts to slowly lift himself up off of the older's lap. His legs are like jelly as he positions himself above the older's cock, lowering himself painfully slow.

 

It hurts, of course, like the burn of a pulled muscle, but he doesn't stop until he's lowered completely, Dongsung buried at the hilt. He moans feebly, adjusting slightly. The older's fist tightens around the leash, pulling it tight against Hansol's throat and cutting off the sound.

 

They pause like that for a while, Hansol breathing shallow and Dongsung wiping the sweat from the younger's forehead. It's an unsually sweet moment, calming the younger's nerves for just a minute.

 

“Move.” Dongsung grits out, thighs flexing with the effort to stay still.

 

Hansol starts to move slowly, making a rhythm of it. He rides up, until they almost disconnect and then slides down quicker, relishing in the stretch of his muscles. Dongsung's hips stay still, left hand curled around the leash and right hand trailing all over Hansol's exposed skin, although they start to thrust minutely when the younger picks up his speed.

 

The tip of Hansol's cock bounces against his navel, smearing pre-come with every movement of his body. Dongsung is looking at him with something almost akin to admiration now and tears are gathering in the corners of his eyes as he tries not to break eye contact.

 

On a particularly rough thrust, Dongsung's cock brushes against Hansol's prostate, ripping a lewd whine from the boys' throat. He picks up speed, thighs slapping against Dongsung's legs every time he bounces. He can see the older's resolution break.

 

Dongsung picks him up roughly, thumbs pressing bruises into his hips, and slams him on the desk. Hansol wraps his legs around Dongsung's waist as papers go flying left and right. Hansol vaguely hears something crash to the ground, but it's overrun by a sharp snap of the older's hips. The thrust is so strong that Hansol slides up the desk a few inches, head slamming against the wood. His entire body shivers, pleasure making each and every one of his muscles go rigid. Choking on a moan, Hansol claws at the back of the older's neck.

 

“Dongsung, please-” Hansol cries.

 

It seems to break something in the other because he starts working his hips with abandon. Every smack of his legs against the back of Hansol's thighs sends the boy keening, fingernails leaving crescent marks on the nape of his neck before his hands fall, grappling uselessly at the hard surface beneath him. Every time Dongsung's cock brushes his prostate his mind jumbles, random noises bubbling out of his mouth.

 

A telltale buzzing starts in Hansol's body, a sign that he's close. He tries to express this, tongue heavy in his mouth and words incoherent, but it seems that Dongsung understands because he starts drilling the younger even harder, desk squeaking against the ground.

 

“I want you to come without touching yourself,” Dongsung says, “Can you do that for me, baby?”

 

Hansol nods with fervor, close enough already. His eyes open, unaware that he even shut them in the first place and he spots the way Dongsung is working in and out of him. He sees his body prepare for orgasm before he even feels it, senses awry. When it finally hits him, though, his back arches high up off the table, hands flying to grab onto Dongsung's biceps. His mouth gapes, eyes almost rolling back in his head as his come splatters across his chest.

 

That's all it takes for Dongsung, watching Hansol fall apart underneath him, and he thrusts one last time before stilling, arms shaking on either side of Hansol's shoulders. Every twitch of his hips as he comes down from orgasm are almost painful to the now oversensitive boy beneath him.

 

They lay on the desk for a while, pressed together by their fronts. Dongsung peppers gentle kisses all over Hansol's face and Hansol giggles, smiling through a blush.

 

“Next time, I'm playing the teacher.”


End file.
